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- Айн Рэнд
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- Стр. 865/1581
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He
saw
a
girl
standing
on
top
of
a
pile
of
machinery
on
a
flatcar
.
She
was
looking
off
at
the
ravine
,
her
head
lifted
,
strands
of
disordered
hair
stirring
in
the
wind
.
Her
plain
gray
suit
was
like
a
thin
coating
of
metal
over
a
slender
body
against
the
spread
of
sun
-
flooded
space
and
sky
.
Her
posture
had
the
lightness
and
unself
-
conscious
precision
of
an
arrogantly
pure
self
-
confidence
.
She
was
watching
the
work
,
her
glance
intent
and
purposeful
,
the
glance
of
competence
enjoying
its
own
function
.
She
looked
as
if
this
were
her
place
,
her
moment
and
her
world
,
she
looked
as
if
enjoyment
were
her
natural
state
,
her
face
was
the
living
form
of
an
active
,
living
intelligence
,
a
young
girl
’
s
face
with
a
woman
’
s
mouth
,
she
seemed
unaware
of
her
body
except
as
of
a
taut
instrument
ready
to
serve
her
purpose
in
any
manner
she
wished
.
Had
he
asked
himself
a
moment
earlier
whether
he
carried
in
his
mind
an
image
of
what
he
wanted
a
woman
to
look
like
,
he
would
have
answered
that
he
did
not
;
yet
,
seeing
her
,
he
knew
that
this
was
the
image
and
that
it
had
been
for
years
.
But
he
was
not
looking
at
her
as
at
a
woman
.
He
had
forgotten
where
he
was
and
on
what
errand
,
he
was
held
by
a
child
’
s
sensation
of
joy
in
the
immediate
moment
,
by
the
delight
of
the
unexpected
and
undiscovered
,
he
was
held
by
the
astonishment
of
realizing
how
seldom
he
came
upon
a
sight
he
truly
liked
,
liked
in
complete
acceptance
and
for
its
own
sake
,
he
was
looking
up
at
her
with
a
faint
smile
,
as
he
would
have
looked
at
a
statue
or
a
landscape
,
and
what
he
felt
was
the
sheer
pleasure
of
the
sight
,
the
purest
esthetic
pleasure
he
had
ever
experienced
.
He
saw
a
switchman
going
by
and
he
asked
,
pointing
,
"
Who
is
that
?
"
"
Dagny
Taggart
,
"
said
the
man
,
walking
on
.
Rearden
felt
as
if
the
words
struck
him
inside
his
throat
.
He
felt
the
start
of
a
current
that
cut
his
breath
for
a
moment
,
then
went
slowly
down
his
body
,
carrying
in
its
wake
a
sense
of
weight
,
a
drained
heaviness
that
left
him
no
capacity
but
one
.
He
was
aware
—
with
an
abnormal
clarity
—
of
the
place
,
the
woman
’
s
name
,
and
everything
it
implied
,
but
all
of
it
had
receded
into
some
outer
ring
and
had
become
a
pressure
that
left
him
alone
in
the
center
,
as
the
ring
’
s
meaning
and
essence
—
and
his
only
reality
was
the
desire
to
have
this
woman
,
now
,
here
,
on
top
of
the
flatcar
in
the
open
sun
—
to
have
her
before
a
word
was
spoken
between
them
,
as
the
first
act
of
their
meeting
,
because
it
would
say
everything
and
because
they
had
earned
it
long
ago
.
She
turned
her
head
.
In
the
slow
curve
of
the
movement
,
her
eyes
came
to
his
and
stopped
.
He
felt
certain
that
she
saw
the
nature
of
his
glance
,
that
she
was
held
by
it
,
yet
did
not
name
it
to
herself
.
Her
eyes
moved
on
and
he
saw
her
speak
to
some
man
who
stood
beside
the
flatcar
,
taking
notes
.
Two
things
struck
him
together
:
his
return
to
his
normal
reality
,
and
the
shattering
impact
of
guilt
.
He
felt
a
moment
’
s
approach
to
that
which
no
man
may
feel
fully
and
survive
:
a
sense
of
self
-
hatred
—
the
more
terrible
because
some
part
of
him
refused
to
accept
it
and
made
him
feel
guiltier
.
